


Remembrance

by Talvi (inn_havi)



Series: Stories of Thedas [6]
Category: Dragon Age (Video Games)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-06
Updated: 2021-01-06
Packaged: 2021-03-17 12:34:58
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,249
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28600056
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/inn_havi/pseuds/Talvi
Summary: Stories of Thedas writing challenge day 6/31
Series: Stories of Thedas [6]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2086773
Kudos: 6





	Remembrance

**Author's Note:**

> Stories of Thedas writing challenge day 6/31

How many years had it been since she stood tall amongst her allies? When was the last time she had tripped over her own feet, or laughed so hard she snorted? What was it like to be in the moment of hearing her warm and sweet voice and to have her arms wrapped around his neck?

He couldn’t recall the specifics anymore and he kicked himself for that. He had hated moments where he would have to see her in pain, close to death, but he should’ve taken in the moments where he held her hand to comfort her. The softness of her red hair that was always in the sheets or even found in her burnt meals. She never was the best at cooking.

Oh and what was his favorite scent of hers? She always smelled of lavender, but she carried many scents of the garden as she pressed flowers and herbs together in order to help the templars who seeked aid in their lyrium withdrawals. Maybe his favorite was the embrium. No, maybe it was still lavender. There was still lavender oil on her nightstand. Maybe just a whiff.

Ah how he missed her. He missed how she would return from a battle to close the rifts, bloodied and bruised but still giving him the cheekiest smile in order to keep him from worrying. He missed noticing her walking in the dead of night around Skyhold. How happy she looked on their wedding day, how confident she was when she stood in front of the Council with only one arm and declared the Inquisition disbanded. He missed her personality.

Outside of the bedroom, he could hear a door open and close. It sounded like the front door. He walked to the bedroom exit and poked his head out, seeing nothing down the hall but the rest of his home. It was so quiet. The floorboards creaked beneath his weight as he approached the kitchen and living area. This was where he had found Juliette sitting anxiously, biting at her nails she waited for him to return home. That day when she found out they were going to have a child. Oh and how she fought for and protected their child with every ounce of her spirit.

He pushed the front door open, looking out at the wide open fields everywhere but to the west where their sanctuary sat. That land gifted from Cassandra all those years ago. Had she any clue what impact that scared little prisoner, the sole survivor of the Conclave, would have on them? If so, he wished that she had said something. He should write to everyone soon, he thought. His love always had to pester him. Her handwriting was always terrible after she lost her dominant hand.

There was a bark to the east. He turned towards the sound and walked along the side of the house, hands in his pockets to protect them from the Ferelden wind gently pushing at him. At the back of the house was a blond figure sitting in the grass, the trusty Mabari laying next to her with his head resting on a paw. Maker, the poor thing was starting to grey.

“It’s a shame it’s not raining,” Cullen spoke aloud, watching as the young girl turned back and looked at him with sad eyes. “Your mother always loved the rain. The smell of it, the sounds.” He smiled a little, walking forward to stand next to her. His amber eyes looked at the grave decorated with fresh flowers, something tugging at his heart. “You picked some good flowers today.”

“Yeah…” The girl had a soft voice, one that fit her mannerisms well. She pulled her knees in close, green eyes studying the colors. “I miss her.” She didn’t look up at her father sitting in the dirt beside her, but only moved her hand to pat the mabari’s head.

“I do too.” He sat with one hand back to support his weight, one knee propped up with his elbow resting on it. “It’s been a year, and I miss her everyday.”

The two fell in silence for a moment, the girl taking a small breath before speaking again. “What was mama like when she was my age?”

Cullen paused before shaking his head. “I didn’t meet your mother until she was about 26.” At the age of twelve? “Your Uncle Elias might know, but she wasn’t with him for a long time.”

“Oh yeah, the Circle…” She didn’t understand the whole concept, but she didn’t need to. She remembered how sad and melancholy her mother always looked when asked about her childhood.

Cullen took a few moments to think of something happy to say, glancing at his daughter before looking back at the flowers. “You know, your mother was very timid for the longest time.”

“No she wasn’t,” the girl looked at him now, seeming confused. “She always jumped around and seemed happy to talk with people like Uncle Varric and Aunt Josephine.”

“Well, of course,” he chuckled. “Because they’re all good friends and she’s known them for  _ years _ . But when we first met? She didn’t even look at me. And she spoke so softly I couldn’t even hear her.”

“But you said she was 26 when you met.”

“Just because you’re an adult doesn’t mean you act a certain way,” Cullen reminded her. “She shook like a leaf when in front of crowds, and was always red in the face with embarrassment…” He trailed off, the image of his brave wife’s determined face in battle or softly helping her fallen soldiers find comfort in passing appearing in his head. “But she was incredibly brave, always trying to help others. And I don’t think I would be where I am now without her.”

There was another moment of silence between the two, but it was warmer now. He could see the smallest smile on his little girl’s face, the lightest freckles moving upwards on her cheeks. She looked so much like her mother.

“Do you wish she never had her hand taken away? Or had the mark?” They never really discussed her mother’s past, but she was caught up on the tales thanks to her story-teller of an uncle. Aunt Leliana’s letters full of heroic tales about her mother helped too.

Cullen chewed on his cheek a little in thought, shifting his weight forward to use his hands to scratch the back of his head where his blond hair was greying. “I don’t know, actually.” As honest a response as any. “That mark caused her so much pain, almost took her life many times, and is the reason she passed so young. So I want to say that I wish she didn’t have it, but…” He knew his daughter wouldn’t say anything to probe a continuation, but would wait for him to continue. Just as Juliette would. “But if she didn’t have that mark-if the events that happened didn’t happen, then we wouldn’t have ever had the chance to meet. The Inquisition wouldn’t have been reborn, and we wouldn’t have had a life together.”

“Or have me,” the soft voice added with a grin, the girl receiving a soft push on her shoulder with Cullen’s fist.

“I suppose you’re a good reason,” he teased with a grin. This is how Juliette would want to see them remembering her-with laughter and smiles despite the heartache of losing her. Just remembering her the best way they could.


End file.
